


Alike in Perdition

by atlas_white



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Angst, M/M, Shadow King Wilson, maxwil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlas_white/pseuds/atlas_white
Summary: Role Reversal AU. Bound to the Nightmare Throne, Wilson doesn't believe he can be saved. William disagrees.





	Alike in Perdition

**Author's Note:**

> Requested on my blog [@higgsburyscience](http://higgsburyscience.tumblr.com/).

 

Wilson started at the sound of William's voice; the deep velvet must surely have carried any other message than what he had heard. He turned, just so, his pupils narrowed to inhuman slits in the silver of his eyes. He lost himself easily to the Throne, and his humanity was slipping with it. It seemed only fitting that his eyes reflected that, his hands, his very teeth. 

"What did you say?" he asked, a dangerous edge to the words despite the way he purred them. He turned to face the magician, looking much larger than he was in his dapper suit and unshakable confidence. He was the King of Shadows, and he wore his mantle with no end of pride.

He strode towards William, his chin tilted up. There was a chill in the air as if all warmth had been drained out of it by his fixed smile and disapproving eyes.

"I said that I can't do what you ask," William repeated, a little stronger this time. He had to keep firm, lest he lose his nerve in the face of the Lord of Nightmares and of Hopelessness. He was not very courageous; else he wouldn't be here in the first place. Yet, he had learned to be strong, because to be weak would have been to succumb to the Constant and its monsters. "I can't stay away from that Door. If there's something behind it that can help me, or you, then..."

"Do not presume to defy me!" Wilson snapped, black fire flickering madly at the edges of his form, and the corners of William's vision. "I am not to be trifled with, Carter! I am the King of this world, and the Lord of the downfall of all living things! I am Their mouthpiece! Do you understand me?" 

He was furious, he was alive with rage, with the darkness that corrupted him body and soul.

William was worried, but he was not afraid. He did not fear Wilson's wrath, nor the sharp claws that spread black from his sleeves. He was not frightened of what Their mouthpiece might do to him, because he trusted that he would do him no harm.

"Wilson, please, don't you understand that I only want to help you?" he appealed gently, lifting his soft, dark hands toward the other man. Wilson was so close now; almost close enough to touch.

"There is no need to help me," Wilson answered venomously, "I am perfectly happy this way, do you not see that? I have power, influence. I have aspirations to rise and grow ever further. What in the world would I need your _help_ with?"

William took Wilson's hands, those long gleaming claws into his own. Instantly, the rage evaporated, the black flames flickering out. The King of Shadows could only look surprised, perplexed by the unexpected touch. So gentle, it was so strange. Foreign to him, who had only ever known insincerity and unkindness.

William ran his smooth brown thumbs over the black surface of Wilson's tainted hands. They were like the feet of crows, he thought, or ravens; rougher and thicker than human skin, completely pitch black and ending in long, curved talons that shined reflectively in the dancing firelight. They were nothing like the soft, ivory skin of Wilson's elegant face. They were nothing like the earthy colour or even the mild callousing of William's own hands.

Left unchecked, was this what Wilson would become in time? Would his whole body turn black like the shadows he reigned over? Would he, perhaps, change into some sort of strange beast? It seemed as if he were already in the process of some dark and terrible transformation, agonizingly slow yet devastating; and heaven only knew if it was reversible.

"You don't belong here," William said softly, as he brought one of those tragically beautiful hands to his full lips. He kissed it gently, and felt the shiver that went through Wilson. "You should be out making scientific discoveries and changing the world."

Wilson's cheeks took on the barest hint of red, fleeting. It was gone almost as soon as it had arrived, as soon as William noticed it. It seemed as if he had diffused the fury so effectively that he had robbed the former scientist of whatever he might have said next, of the fire that made his blackened blood run devastatingly hot.

"Well..." Wilson began to try and recover himself, not taking either one of his crow's hands from William's gentle grasp. He looked up at the magician and his eyes focused again, a look of intent in them and something that William could not identify. "The world has already rejected my genius. Sometimes alternatives must be found for those who wish to shine as brightly as they can." He chuckled dryly. "Sometimes those alternatives come in darkness."

"Oh, Wilson," William breathed. He remembered the struggles he had endured himself trying to make a name in the world, to show his own greatness. Hadn't it led him to make a deal with Wilson in the first place, when the dapper young man had first contacted him through an unplugged radio? He had been promised real magic, and like a fool he had listened, eager to prove himself and to escape from debt.

He'd never anticipated just what he was agreeing to, let alone what grief it would cause. Yet a part of him wasn't sure that he would do things any differently, if he were given the chance. 

"I don't believe that there is no place for you out there," he finished, meeting Wilson's eyes and drinking in all that he found in them.

Wilson didn't look away, although it seemed for a moment like he might. Perhaps the magic he had gifted William was greater than either of them had anticipated; he seemed to have been placed under a spell, and was bound in place by it.

"You are very kind, but you are also naive," Wilson said at length, "You cannot save me, Carter. Focus on finding your own way, and forget about me and my machinations. Whatever We do, it won't concern you. I am Their King, but you are bound by no such service."

"I'm bound by the Constant," William answered, "I haven't yet found a single means of escape. I think that I would benefit from a second mind, especially if it belongs to a genius scientist."

Wilson went rigid, and held this posture for some long moments. At length, he started to laugh, and he squeezed William's hands tightly in his talons, yet his claws did not press into the skin. He laughed until he was nearly in hysterics, stepping closer to the magician with his great head lowered so that his face could no longer be seen.

"You are a madman," he choked as he cackled, and William said nothing.

He squeezed his hands tighter still until finally he was finished, and abruptly he let go. Something very ugly and heavy had just torn through him, and worked itself out of his system. He looked small, despite his fury, his suit, his mantle, his stature. He looked lost.

Slowly, hesitantly, William put his arms around the King of Shadows, who remained there silently for some long minutes, resting his head against the magician's chest. 

"I do not want for you to go through the door," he said into the fabric of William's vest.

"I know," William answered softly, "but I think that there is something there that can help you."

"You think that, but you are mistaken," Wilson said, tilting his head back to look at William once more, and to be heard clearly. His voice was so crisp, his elegant accent such a reminder of home that it caused William to shiver. "You are too altruistic. You cannot help me, it is impossible; you cannot take me out of Hell. Can't you see that I'm the Devil?"

William shook his head. "You are not the Devil," he replied, "You're just a sinner like me, and I refuse to believe that this is the end of the road for either of us."

The King of Shadows pulled himself free from William's arms and stepped back away, staring at him with a strange wonderment. Had he ever known a kind word? 

"William, don't do this to yourself," he said, trying to summon his fury and his firmness back into his voice. "Do not go through my Door. I mean it. I mean it. You can't remove what is part of the Constant. I'm telling you—" he stopped, hesitated. "—I'm begging you not to do this."

His eyes were wide, imploring. His hands were open and his too-sharp teeth were exposed. William loved each of these. He loved the whole that appealed to him with so much passion it made the magician's chest feel tight and full.

"Wilson, I need to help you," he said with finality, "I can't turn my back on you. I won't do that to you." He had done enough harm; he had let enough people down already.

The other man swallowed visibly, making his Adam's apple bob in his slim throat. He could not express that devilish rage in the face of such solemn earnesty, and how they both knew it. "You are a fool to think that a King can be taken from his kingdom."

He did not argue the point further, however, but only turned away at last. He needed to return to himself, waiting on the Throne. He could not bear to look back at William, but only whispered, "I bid you good night, Carter," before dissolving into black flame, and vanishing without a trace.

The magician, left alone, looked down at his own hands, large and fine and brown, and thought long of Wilson's claws, which he wished to hold again. If he had no other reason to want to reach Wilson, even at the risk of discovering what horrors may truly lie behind that Door, regardless of what arcane knowledge or threat to life and limb may await him, then this alone would be sufficient cause. Surely, he would lay down his very life to have that opportunity again, to hold his hands and to assure him that they were beautiful.

 


End file.
